


Waste of Space

by hitmewiththatfanart33



Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitmewiththatfanart33/pseuds/hitmewiththatfanart33
Summary: After another fight with Roman, Logan can't take much more and decides to move out. Roman begs him to stay.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796293
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Waste of Space

They'd always had the stupidest arguments. He guessed he should be grateful for those. They were only a small sample of the raging hurricane that was destroying their living room, breaking Roman's heart in two. But hey, at least their other two roommates weren't caught in the middle of it, for they weren't even home yet.

***

"God, Logan. Just tell me what I did wrong!" He pleaded.

"You didn't do anything," he coldly stated. _What he had done,_ Logan thought, _was cause him to have unpleasant emotions._ "I'm simply tired of your constant theatrics, and am therefore done."

He was referring specifically to Roman flirting with the barista, or anyone really, but that was the most recent one, and it hurt Logan. Not that Roman needed to know that. This recent encounter left Logan to realize he was jealous. It frustrated him how his roommate could show affection to (figuratively) everyone in the entire world, except for him. From this observation, he concluded he had no chance. And so he was done. He would either avoid Roman at all costs, or he would move out to make these feelings go away.

"Theatrics? Done? Logan, what are you talking about?" Roman cried, throwing his arms out.

How did Logan explain something he didn't want Roman to know? It was highly frustrating. The arrogant one would keep pushing and prodding, he'd tell the embarrassing truth, and Roman would henceforth be uncomfortable after he inevitably rejected him. To him, he was just the uptight nerd, nothing more. Not a damsel (or bachelor in his case) in distress like his fairytales so loved to talk about.

He stood entirely rigid. Posture perfect in a way that was one step away from being so tight it snapped like string. He rested his arms above his waist, not below, just for some semblance of strength. There was no telling what expression was slipping through his thick walls at the moment.

"You blow everything out of proportion all the time, you use it to pick on me, and then I have to stand here and—" The hand he had leaned out now played with his bottom lip as he breathed.

And what? Feel hopelessly crushed every single time he had to watch him flirt with someone? And why is that? Because Roman was a big, stupid nerd, and Logan was in love with him that's why.

"And?" Roman inquired. His ego was a bit offended, but Logan could tell he was swallowing it.

Everything in him was screaming at him to just tell Roman. What's the worst that could happen? He'd what: know something he already knew? But he listened to the cold part, the one that told him to hide all the time, and now it told him to push him away.

"And it doesn't matter, Roman. I'm tired of it all," he bit. He truly was. He was tired of feeling so many things all at once every second of every day, all because of Roman.

He paced, doing the same thing Logan did with his hands. It was a mimicked habit. "Tired of what? Me picking on you? If that's what it is I'll try to stop," he bargained. He looked pleadingly into Logan's eyes with hands that twitched as if they wanted to grab hold of him.

Why couldn't he just get it? Logan was tired of explaining, tired of him being so blind. "You don't get it," he sighed, " **Great**." He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replacing them.

Roman opened his mouth once to protest, then shut it again, actually thinking about his words for this particular argument. That was good. Maybe he picked up on the fact that it was much more serious than who was more mature. "I would get it if you just told me! You're not making any sense!" He agonized.

 _'You're supposed to get it. You're the romantic one. I can't understand, let alone explain, my emotions worth a shit,'_ he desperately thought to himself. _Push him away, push him away, push him away._ "Let me get this through your impenetrable skull: I can't stand being around you," he enunciated.

There it was. He'd said it. He'd gone too far this time, and there was no going back. If he were being completely honest to Roman right now, he would've added a, 'when you're flirting with someone else because it reminds me of how little I'm liked, when all I want to do is listen to you ramble on about your passions as you hold me on the couch' to the end.

He had said it, and yet he wasn't even ready for the consequences that came after.

First came the look of absolute hurt on his normally perfect face. This caused Logan to feel immensely terrible. He uttered a soft, "Oh..." His eyebrows drew together, and he wouldn't look at Logan. Then his jaw clenched and the storm came. "Well if that's how you feel then— then fucking leave. You and all your fucking notebooks. The house will be less cluttered without you anyways!" He shouted, tears threatening to reveal themselves. Logan didn't pick up on this, of course.

The words rang in his ears as if he'd taken a blow to the head. He was nothing more than clutter to Roman. He knew that, right? So why did it make his chest tighten so hard that it squeezed his lungs and came close to stopping his heart? "Trust me, I plan on it!" He jabbed. Everything was spinning, and he'd never felt like this before... never felt this _much_.

Roman dragged the bottom of his palms up his face, running tense fingers through his hair. He was crying— why was he crying? Frustration. Right. "Can't wait to be free of your cold fucking stare and the way you act like you tolerate me..." He seethed.

Emotionless. He was emotionless. Being smart made him cold. He could be tough. He could push him away. He could leave...

Roman shook his head. "You bitch. You absolute heartless _**bitch**_. I should've known. Thanks for making me feel like a complete idiot for thinking you actually wanted me around when you... when you—"

When he what? Taught him how to make schedules? Read with him? Let him teach him how to dance because his only hobbies contained knowledge, and he needed something new and simple? Little did he know it wouldn't be simple at all. That the entwined fingers and the hand on his waist and the eye contact would dig into his skin so deep it could kill him.

"Cat got your tongue?" He spit, striding to his room and slamming the door. He could be heartless. He could pack even though he had nowhere to go, and he knew just how very much he'd miss his roommates. His family.

He knew he was being irrational. The logical approach to this would be to tell Roman why he can't stand to be around him, to apologize, to stay home. But the storm had thoroughly taken over his head and had shaken and scrambled him up. There wasn't that much to pack anyways... Just a bunch of stupid books, clothes, and sheets.

He was a very efficient and organized packer, so he had it done quickly, lamenting at the bare room. He sat on the corner of a mattress, breathing for a minute. What would Pat and Virge say when they got home? This was all such a mess and he just wanted to start over so badly.

He began bringing the limited number of boxes and bags out of his room, setting them in the hall. Then he grabbed as much of it as he could practically carry, and made his way to the front door. Only, he didn't make it that far. Roman sat on the couch silently, huddled up in one corner with leftover tears in his eyes. Logan paused, if only for just a moment, then kept walking. _Don't let it break you._

It was silent. It was so so very silent in what he knew to be a loud house. His hands shook, standing in the small hallway where the front door sat for a moment. He couldn't really do this, could he?

A firm hand on his elbow pulled him back into reality. He froze. What last words were Roman going to throw in his face? What form of emotionless waste of space would he call him this time?

"Please don't go," he croaked.

_What?_

"I'm sorry Logan... just... Please don't leave. I don't know what I did, but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. Anything is better than you leaving," he begged.

His heart pounded. Why was he making this so difficult? He couldn't... he just couldn't stick around until the day Roman moved out because a boyfriend had finally stuck, and Logan was too late. Why couldn't he see that?

Tears streamed down his face, and he dropped his things to turn around to look at him. He had the same torn-apart look as Logan. He shoved himself into Roman's chest, wrapping arms around his ribs and staying there in the warm enclosure that smelled faintly of cologne. How could Roman forgive him so easily? After everything he'd just said to him?

He melted into the fingers running through his hair, shocked into a stupor when a kiss was planted on top of his head. This wasn't a thing people who couldn't stand each other did, nor a thing most friends did. He pulled back, wide-eyed. Roman just watched him with a sort of softness that Logan didn't calculate as—

With two fingers, his chin was lifted and Roman was kissing him. Where the absolute hell did that come from?! He'd figure it out later, but for now, he let his lips move to the rhythm Roman had set, cupping his neck. Maybe he just hadn't noticed how much of a chance he actually had. 


End file.
